The Sincerest Apologies
by avatardsherlockian
Summary: After some harsh words, all Molly needs is a sincere apology. Sherlock doesn't always feel the need to, but he does. Molly is thankful, but apologies can only go so far. Set before Reichenbach.
1. I'm Sorry

It was the fifth time today that Molly had to stop in the middle of her autopsy to walk calmly to her office, close the door, and lower herself slowly to the ground, trying to restrain her tears. She hadn't even gotten through one corpse today and her shift was almost done. Sherlock had been extra cruel this time. He degraded her within an inch of making her burst out in tears right in front of him. He had been having a bad day that was for certain; he hadn't had a case in an entire week and John was currently off on holiday with his new wife, Mary. He had even gotten angry at his own hair for falling down onto his forehead. When Molly had asked him if he was okay, he took no time at all to tell her just exactly how he was feeling.

_Sherlock," Molly spoke to him quietly as Sherlock gazed into his microscope, "Are you alright? You look like you're not having a very good day," she had finished nervously._

_He peeled his eyes from his work and looked over at her with them, the blue in his eyes adding to the cold glare that was digging into Molly and making her scared._

"_Of course I'm all right, Molly. Why does that matter anyways when you yourself aren't as happy and mousy as you usually are?"_

_He looked at her up and down in a matter of seconds, "Your body language is all wrong. You aren't twiddling your fingers around nervously like you always do in my presence due to your ridiculous and idiotic affection towards me. You've been disappointed by a man not too many nights ago because he wanted to have sexual relations with you on the first date and you turned him down. The anniversary of your father's death was yesterday and your mother didn't even remember because she was too busy being a drunk. You've put on another two pounds. And you have finally come to the conclusion that I will never be with you nor have I ever thought about it or wanted it for that matter. Save yourself the pain and future rejection and just stop caring about me."_

_He turned back to his cultures leaving a gaping Molly to stare at him in shock. She tried to form a sentence but the vocabulary in her head scrambled into a whole lot of nothing._

"_Don't say anything you'll just sound stupid," Sherlock cut Molly off just as she finally realized what she was going to say._

_Molly was thankful that Sherlock was staring into his microscope and not a her; she doesn't want him to see the tears that had quickly formed at the corner of her eyes._

"_I won't stop caring for you," Molly said under her breath._

"_Speak up!" he demanded, looking at her now._

"_I won't!" she shouted back at him, her bottom lip trembling, "As much as I want to and believe me I've tried, I can't. You better fucking get used to it, Sherlock. People care about you and you're just going to have to deal with it."_

_Sherlock stared at her, unmoving and remaining silent._

"_I think you need to leave."_

"_Excuse me?" Sherlock asked, incredulous._

"_I said you need to leave. You're disrupting my work and don't think for one minute that I don't know you secretly acquired a permit to work in here whenever you wish in case just this type of event occurred. I have every right to kick you out if you're disturbing me and you are. So get out. Now."_

_His face remained emotionless. He sat up from the chair, taking a step towards her. Molly's arms were crossed on her chest and she stood her ground. Sherlock was less than a foot away from her, studying her. His eyes seem to flick across her face carefully and methodically. In one quick movement, he was pulling on his coat that was hung on the back of his chair and wrapping his scarf round his neck. He hesitated by the chair, his back to her as if he was doing something without her knowledge. He strode to the door and paused, something on the tip of his tongue that threatened to spill its way past his lips and into Molly's ears. He left with a flourish of his coat._

_It had been the biggest fight they ever had, _Molly thought. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, and she let her back lay heavily on the door behind her. She wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand, it shook. As she stood she felt weak at the knees as if she could easily collapse back onto the ground and never get back up again. Molly had been feeling like this could happen more and more often with every passing minute. A sharp rap on the door broke her out of her revere and she wiped quickly at her face which was already dry and sighed slowly letting herself calm down. She opened the door of her office gingerly, fearing that Sherlock wasn't quite finished with his tirade.

"Ello, Molly."

Standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, Striker smiled sweetly at her. Striker is another young pathologist at Bart's and is one of Molly's best friends. She was happy to see him today because he always knew what was wrong and exactly how to cheer her up.

Striker sighed and leaned his shoulder up against the doorframe, crossing his long legs nonchalantly, "You have to stop letting that man treat you like that."

"I stood up to him today," She told him, hoping for some hint of approval.

His expression softened, "But you still let him see you cry."

He wiped a stray tear from Molly's face with the pad of his thumb.

"I didn't cry in front of him," she choked, "You should have heard the things he said, Striker, I…"

Striker hushed her soothingly and wrapped her in his arms. Molly reciprocated and buried her head in his shoulder. After a minute of rubbing her back slowly, Striker broke apart from Molly, letting his hands grip her upper arms reassuringly.

"Why can't Sherlock be as nice as you are?" Molly questioned, with a weak laugh.

"Because no one can be as amazing as I am duh," Striker smirked and walked with Molly back into the morgue.

"What have you been up to then?" Molly pulled on a pair of blue gloves; she had to get back to work anyways.

"Oh you wanna see what I've been up to?" he stood next to her a delightful gleam in his eyes as he flipped through the photos on his phone. He held the phone up in front of Molly's face, a large smile spreading onto his lips. On the phone was a picture of Striker with his arm around another man's shoulders, his hand placed on top of Striker's.

Molly gushed, "Is this the man you've been seeing?"

"Yeah isn't he handsome?"

The other man in the photo was blond and a bit shorter than the tall, brunette man standing next to her.

"He's pretty cute," Molly commented, sighing and sitting in the stool at the lab counter, defeated.

"Oh, my dear Molly, what are we going to do with you?" he asked, propping his elbows on the table so they were at eye level.

Just as Molly was about to say something she thought would be witty, Molly spotted Striker's gaze focused on something else.

"What is it?"

"Look," he proclaimed and pointed across the counter. Turning her head, she spotted a small piece of paper with messy handwriting sprawled across it in blue ink. Molly picked up the paper and took a better look at it.

_I'm sorry._

_-SH_

Molly knew it was stupid of her, but she wasn't so mad at Sherlock anymore.

**BOOM! I'm not sure about the summary; if any of you lovelies have a suggestion on what it should say than feel free to speak your mind. Okay I'm not sure how far I'll take this story but do hope for more chapters! This kind of just came to me the other day when I should have been finishing the new chapter on my other fic, Swan Dive, but I wrote it anyway. Thanks to **_FreeSpiritSeeker _**for beta-ing; love you dear!**

**~Mel**


	2. This Can't Wait

**Hello all! Thanks to the lovely reviews! Shoutouts are in order!**

**Rocking the Redhead- Hello you! Haha yes. I hope this chapter fixes Molly's begging problem for you lol! She's a bit sassy here ;D**

**Guest- Haha thank you so much! Here it tis!**

**4UISUNI2- Lol thank you for the review! Glad you found it aww worthy :)**

**Empress of Verace- Ahh yes you! So glad you like it! Excited to hear what you like bout this chapta ;)**

**Sherlolly-221B- Ahh hello, dear! I need to read and review your last chapter still *tear* Haha thanks for the review! I also follow you on tumblr if you weren't aware and I love your blog and the little note under your title *winK***

**Thanks all who read as well, you mean the world to me :)**

Sherlock lay on the couch in 221B, his ankles crossed precariously and his fingers steepled under his chin. He didn't think to leave that note for her, it just happened. He wondered the halls of his mind palace. It was beautiful; sleek black tile, dark wood paneling, and great white marble pillars. He strode up to a door titled _apologies_ and pushed it open. Before he did though, he knew what would be waiting inside. As expected, the room was almost empty besides the furniture that was the same in every room of his mind palace. In other places, there would be boxes filled with files of the experiences and information that Sherlock collected over the years; rooms like _tobacco ash _and _classical music composers. _In this room though, there was only one box with only three incidents of Sherlock ever apologizing. One to his mother when he was ten for almost setting their family home on fire when an experiment went awry. Another to Mycroft when Sherlock was slipping in and out of consciousness when he had taken too much heroine and he lay weak in his brother's lap. And finally the last and most recent, when he went too far because he was irritable and cranky and decided to take his frustration out on Molly who only ever helped him. _She was only worried about me_, Sherlock thought, _Why did I have to lash out at _her?

Sherlock was interrupted when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He shot up from the sofa, an aching feeling in his chest wished Molly would walk through the door. Instead walked in John, carrying white Tesco bags on his arms. He placed them on the table and says "hello" to Sherlock over his shoulder.

"I see you're back from holiday with your wife, whatever-her-name-is." Sherlock placed his violin under his chin. John looked over at his flatmate curiously. _Something's off about him today, _thought John_, more than usual._

"Her names Mary, Sherlock," he said with a sigh and changed the subject, "I figured that you didn't do the shopping so I grabbed some essentials," John told Sherlock and was greeted with huff in response.

John put the groceries away while simultaneously cleaning out the rotten foods and expired milk in the process. When he was done, he turned to find Sherlock in the same position, bow in hand at his side.

"Aren't you going to play?"

"Play what?" Sherlock asked, turning to John, "What are you implying?" he questioned John again, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Whoa now take it easy," he said, rubbing his forehead in annoyance, "I was talking about your violin."

Sherlock looked down at the instrument which he had forgotten about entirely.

"I need to go," Sherlock proclaimed suddenly, and put his violin back into the hardwood box.

"What for?"

"There's someone I need to see," Sherlock explained, pulling his coat on and wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"At least tell me where you're going."

"Out."

Walking down the corridor of St. Bart's, Sherlock hoped that Molly was still working. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. Sherlock didn't know what he wanted to say; only that he needed to make it clear that she deserved more than just a written note. Sherlock saw that the light was on in the lab. Molly was still there; she'd never leave the lights on after her shift. He stopped abruptly when he heard a man's voice on the other side of the door and Molly's unmistakable sound. The words were muffled by the door and Sherlock started to leave, before he turned back again. _I need to do this now, _he though_, or I won't do it all. _

Pushing it open, Sherlock was greeted with the sight of a tall, brunette man looking over Molly's shoulder into a microscope. Sherlock stood there, his mouth in a thin line and he didn't like how close the two were to each other. Molly laughed when the man poked her in the side playfully. Sherlock took the opportunity to clear his throat loudly.

Molly looked up from her paperwork, a smile on her face that immediately dropped when she saw who had entered the room. The other man looked up too but he didn't move from his position. Sherlock got a better look at him; angular facial features, short dusty, brown hair, lean, muscular figure, and many freckles covering his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

"Sherlock I told you to leave," Molly said with contempt, never removing her gaze from him.

"I know I just-" Sherlock rubbed his eyes with his fingers, inwardly kicking himself for stumbling with words, "Excuse me who are you?" he asked the other man.

"I'm Molls best friend," the man shook Sherlock's hand, "Name's Striker. Sherlock I presume?" he continued without answer, "I think we need to talk."

"But I need to talk to-"

"That can wait," Striker said, holding the door to the corridor open for Sherlock.

_But this can't wait_, Sherlock thought. He looked over at Molly who tried to look distracted with her paperwork. After a moment's hesitation, Sherlock followed the man into the hall.

"What is it you want?" Sherlock asked.

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same question."

"What-"

"No. You don't get to speak. You do enough of that already. I wanna know why you treat my Molls like that. She's one of the sweetest girls I know. She doesn't deserve to be told all of her flaws. She knows her own life, she doesn't need to be reminded by you, _Sherlock_," he spat the other man's name out as if it was poison.

Now here's what you're going to do," Striker continued, "You're going to go in there, apologize to her-get on your knees if you feel like it- and you're going to hope that she's going to let you continue to come here. You don't know this, but Molly tells me everything. And if I hear one more story about how much of a dick you're being to her I will kick your arse," he finished, his jaw set tightly.

Striker looked at him, and Sherlock knew how real his words really were.

"If you would have let me speak," Sherlock said calmly, "You would have known that I've come to apologize."

Striker looked taken aback for a moment before he switched back to best-friend-mode, "Well that better be the only thing you say to her. And it better be sincere. No 'Oh and I need you to test these samples'. Say you're sorry. And leave."

"I wasn't- could you just give us some privacy? Please? Now."

Striker took one last chance to glare at Sherlock as intimidating as he could make himself look, "I'll go get some coffee."

Striker walked past him, but turned back around to face him when Sherlock spoke, "Are you and Molly in a relationship?"

Striker laughed, "No we're just friends. I love her like a sister and I won't let you or anyone else hurt her. Besides, I don't play for your team," he said and winked at Sherlock, knowing it would make him uncomfortable, and walked away.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the back of Striker's head and pushed his way into the mortuary.

"Molly, I-" Sherlock began to say before he realized that Molly was nowhere in sight.

Sherlock found that Molly was on the ground leaning her back against the counter. Her knees were pulled into her chest and her head rested on them. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and a tissue was crushed in the hand that was balled up into a fist. Her hair was down and was covering most of her face.

"Molly?" Sherlock crouched next to her.

Molly stood up almost immediately, never meeting Sherlock's gaze. She wiped at her cheeks as she past Sherlock and sat down in her stool.

"What do you want, Sherlock?" her voice wavered slightly.

"I wanted to apologize. In person that is."

"Oh you mean this," she pulled the piece of paper out of her lab coat pocket and smoothed down the creases.

"_I'm sorry." _She said in a mock tone as she read the note out loud, "Cause that's enough for me to forgive you apparently. You don't need to apologize again," she said looking into his eyes now, "You know that in a few days I'll forgive you anyways so why bother?"

"Molly-"

"Sherlock, you need to-"

"Stop. Stop that right now. I am sick of being interrupted. I need to say what I want to say, without you interruptions or crying for god's sake," he said under his breath.

"Fine. I'll try and hold back emotion; I know how you hate when people have feelings and act on them."

"No I don't- I just," Sherlock sighed and sat down next to Molly, "I wasn't having a very good day today. You know that. I shouldn't have said those things to you, _at_ you. I shouldn't have even come here today. I knew that I was irritable; I knew that I was going to snap any minute. I came here this morning because I knew you would be here. I wanted to be around someone who wasn't a complete idiot, but then you go off and act nervous around me. I hate when you do that. Besides, I was bored and I can deduce you so easily these days and I jumped at the opportunity. It wasn't my objective to hurt you. I'm… sorry, Molly. Can you forgive me?"

"You don't think I'm an idiot?"

"Of course not, but that wasn't the point of what I just said."

"Th- thank you, Sherlock," Molly stuttered mostly because he was finally apologizing to her for real, but also because of how close he was sitting next to her. Molly looked down at Sherlock's hand which was inches away from hers, palm up. She resisted the urge to take it, and turned her head away from Sherlock, biting her lip. To her surprise, he took her hand and entwined their fingers together. His hand was cold and somewhere in her mind, Molly thought that it was because he never experienced love. Molly looked over at Sherlock, her hair falling into her eyes. Sherlock brought his hand up and pushed her hair behind her ear. Sherlock looked at her, really _looked _at her. He seemed to become suddenly uncomfortable or nervous, Molly couldn't tell, yet his hand remained on her cheek. Inside, Sherlock wanted to kiss Molly because up close her lips looked delightful. He shook his head slightly, earning a confused look from Molly and an even more confused look when he kissed her forehead. His lips seemed to send electricity through Molly and she wished that he had kissed her a few inches lower on her face. When he pulled back he seemed to be shocked at himself. He stood up hastily from the stool and headed for the door.

"Goodnight, Molly."

Before she could respond, Sherlock was gone.

**BOOM! Yes wow this chapter took to long to write so sorry guys! Thanks to the special people who came over from my other story and read! I have fans whoa! To you other Sherlollians, please go and read my other story, Swan Dive. Yes it has a lot of chapters but hey who needs a social life right? ;D**

**~Mel**


	3. An Abundance of Thank You's

**Hey guys! Yup super early ik. This chapter is basically fluff and angst sorry haha! Shoutouts!**

**MorbidbyDefault- Haha oh my god thank you so much! That's so sweet! So glad you like it, dear!;D**

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**Rocking the Redhead- Haha thanks! Yep Striker is great!**

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**LOOK GUISE v**

Ever since Sherlock had kissed Molly and apologized, he came in less frequently. He would still come in to the morgue every day but it was never for more than an hour at best. Molly hadn't seen Sherlock at all today and she was beginning to worry that he had finally gotten sick of her. She retired from her lab coat and replaced it with her own. Just as Molly was pulling her ponytail out from under her collar, Sherlock barged through the doors.

"Hello, Molly," he made sure to regard her presence before he sat down in her stool at the lab counter and pulled a slide out from his pocket.

"Sherlock, I was just about to lock up. It's nearly midnight."

"Stay then," he looked up at her, "It wouldn't be safe for you to walk home at this hour alone anyways," he finished and gazed into the microscope again.

"Are you offering to walk me home?"

"No I'm suggesting you fly home, of course that's what I meant," he said to her a little too curtly.

Molly scowled and tilted her head at Sherlock in disappointment.

"Apologies," he looked up at her again, "I'll only be a few more minutes. Please."

Molly was slightly taken aback as she heard that word come out of his mouth. She sighed to herself, not loud enough for Sherlock to hear, and went to stand next to him. She grabbed up the paperwork that she was too lazy to pile up and put in her office before. Molly didn't realize how close she was standing next to Sherlock, until she turned on her heals, catching her foot on the metal leg of the chair. Her papers went flying in a circle in front of her. She braced herself for the fall that would inevitably come until she felt a strong arm around her back and the other on her hip. Molly grabbed onto the lapels of his coat tightly. Sherlock had moved quickly enough to catch her from hitting the ground; he also caught the blush that crept onto her cheeks.

"Th-thank you, Sherlock," she laughed nervously as he righted her onto her feet, his hand still on her side. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you alright? You didn't hurt your foot did you?" he asked with genuine concern.

"No, I'm fine, thanks. I'm just a bit clumsy," she smiled and Sherlock finally dropped his hand.

"A bit?" he joked, and it was the one of the rare moments that she ever heard Sherlock chuckle.

"Your papers?" he asked when he noticed that she was making no move to pick them up.

Molly tore her gaze away from Sherlock and knelt to pick them up. Sherlock squatted opposite her and helped. They each grabbed the ones that were directly in front of them. Just as Molly reached for one next to Sherlock, Sherlock reached for a piece of paper beside her. As they both picked the papers up they turned their heads to look for more and ended up hitting each other in the head.

Molly let out a short laugh and rubbed her temple, "Sorry, Sherlock."

"Not your fault," he said as they both reached for the same paper in between them. Sherlock's hand rested onto Molly's for a short moment before Molly began to blush again. Sherlock noticed this and smiled down at her; she was currently trying to hide her face. He removed his hand and allowed her to pick it up herself.

"Thanks, Sherlock."

"Anytime," he responded simply as he stood.

Molly stood up a moment later, pushing another loose strand behind her ear.

"You should wear your hair down more often. You wouldn't have to constantly fix it all the time. I also think you look better with your hair down," he said as if he was thinking aloud or as an afterthought.

Molly thought that he had reverted back to playing with her heart but this time it was different. He didn't need anything from her, not right now anyways, and his words seemed to be sincere.

"Thanks," she replied and unconsciously grabbed at the soft tips of her ponytail. Molly had lost count of how many times she had to thank Sherlock in the spans of the few minutes they were here together.

Sherlock simply nodded before he returned to his cultures again. Molly left the paperwork on her desk in her office and locked the door behind her. When she turned around once again, Sherlock was standing in front of her, holding her coat. He helped her into it and she couldn't help but flush when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

Sherlock walked next to Molly in companionable silence. Every now and then she would make comments about how beautiful the stars were and he didn't seem to mind her mundane small talk. It was her voice that he really listened to. He memorized in great detail how she pronounced different words and how her voice got higher when she was anxious, quieter when she spoke of things that sparked interest in her. The further they walked the less she spoke; the chilly air hushed her. Even in his giant, thick coat, the wind seemed to whip right through the fabric and freeze Sherlock's arms to the bone. It was neither more comfortable for Molly, her coat much thinner than his.

"Why must you walk home in such weather?"

She shrugged, "I don't mind the cold much. Besides, I walk because it allows me to think more clearly."

She didn't question when Sherlock followed her up to her doorstep. She unlocked her door, and as she turned to regard him, she noticed how his nose was red and the way his body shook slightly with the cold that still nipped at his skin.

"I hope this isn't a strange question," she began, "but do you want to stay for the night? You're going to catch a cold if you go back out there again."

Sherlock seemed to ponder on this for a long moment, "That's very nice of you but I think I'll manage," he lied. He did want to stay.

He didn't make to leave her doorstep and she noticed that he didn't seem to want to.

"I'd have to insist, Sherlock. It's for your own good."

Sherlock smiled down at her but still pretended to hesitate. After another moment he accepted, "I guess you're right. Thank you, Molly."

He glided past her, kicking off his shoes and shucking off his coat.

_Make yourself at home, _Molly thought to herself, and quietly laughed at him. Sherlock didn't seem to notice.

Molly grabbed a spare blanket out from under her bed and made her way back into the living room, finding Sherlock already lying on the sofa with his ankles crossed and his hands resting on his chest. Molly fixated on the easy rising and falling of his chest. She snapped out of her reverie when she figured she had been staring too long, and laid the blanket over Sherlock. She covered his feet, not tucking him in, but making sure he was covered up; the last thing the world needs is the only Consulting Detective sick with a cold. As Molly made her way up to Sherlock's chest, she laid the blanket over his hands. Sherlock's hand shot up to grab Molly's wrist as she went to leave, and she turned back around to face him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I just…" he stared at their joined hands, their fingers effortlessly entwined with each other's, "Thank you," he looked up at her now.

"Anytime," she said, echoing the exact words he had said to her.

She didn't make to leave, neither of them wanting to break away. The both stared at each other for a moment, before Sherlock pulled his hand away hastily, turning his back to her.

"Goodnight, Molly," his voice mumbled by the sofa.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

Molly turned off the lights before she swiftly retreated to her bedroom. She didn't have the energy to change into her pajamas, _I just can't. Not right now_, she thought. She covered herself in the duvet and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. Staring up at the ceiling, Molly felt raw and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because Sherlock had held her hand and pulled it away like she was poisonous. Maybe it was because she had let him hurt her again. She fell asleep, welcoming the fit of sobs that always came after Sherlock hurt her.

**BOOM! Okay sorry that there was no Striker in this chapter, I know how you guys like him. So thankful that my original character strikes interest in you guys! Til next time, my dears ;D**

**~Mel**


	4. Nothing We Can't Fix

**Hey guise! Shoutouts!**

**MorbidbyDefault- Haha omfg I'm so happy you like it because you're like my role model in writing *touches my cheek shyly* Sorry bout the angst, this chapter won't make you very happy either haha!**

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**Whenthebirddies- Oh my god like seriously. You are such a blessing like for real you are making me cry (almost) and that's like really hard to do sometimes. I have never been called anyone's role model before and for you to say that is so touching. Stalk all you want because I'm sort of in love with you right now. Read the chapter then see what I write on the bottom ;D**

**Rocking the Redhead- Haha glad you like it! Yeah she would constantly trip on air if she knew that Sherlock would be there to catch her ;D**

**gforcejedi- Aww thanks! More character development of Striker ahead. Thanks for the reviews on both of my fics. Glad to know I have a fan!**

**Zora Arian- Haha NO! I'm sorry I'm purposefully making this an angsty fic murhurhur... Haha yeah Sherlock's so dumb ;D**

**AdaYuki- Ahh love that you loved it! Thanks for the reviews on both of my stories, dear! :)**

**LOOKIE GUISEv**

Molly woke groggily as the light that seeped through her curtains temporarily blinded her. She never used an alarm clock because it would just make her cranky for being woken up by an annoying, blaring sound. She pushed the duvet aside and padded over to her bureau where she grabbed clothes for a shower. She closed the bathroom door behind her, stripping from her clothes and stepping into the hot shower. She soon blow dried her hair after getting dressed in leisurely clothing; today was Molly's day off. Molly grabbed a second towel and used it to rid the mirror of steam. As she saw her reflection, she noticed how raw her eyes looked after she had cried the night before and without noticing, in the shower a few minutes prior. _Nothing makeup can't fix,_ Molly thought, and she did just that. Molly closed the door behind her and put her hair into a ponytail as she made her way down the hallway and into the kitchen. She then immediately took it out because she remembered that Sherlock thought she looked better with her hair down, and she wrapped it around her wrist. Molly poured herself a glass of orange juice; she would have had coffee or tea but she didn't want to wake Sherlock when the kettle went off; she could hear him snoring lightly in the other room.

Molly looked down at Sherlock's sleeping form and for a moment she smiled. Sherlock was curled in on himself, the blanket she had given him was on the floor. He wasn't childish enough to throw it there, he only moved around a lot when he slept. His hair was in slight disarray; His curls tumbled down onto his forehead while some stuck up in random bursts of black hair. The dark brown leather of Molly's sofa and Sherlock's hair made him look paler, Molly noticed.

Molly sat on the sofa next to Sherlock's feet, His position giving her just enough room to make her own self comfortable. She pulled her knees up to her chest and placed the half empty glass on the coffee table right in front of her, grabbing the remote shortly after. Molly used it as background noise as she playing idly with the soft tendrils of her hair. Molly had lost herself in her thoughts and she didn't notice Sherlock wake beside her.

"He's not the father," he said matter of factly.

All of a sudden Molly realized that Sherlock was sitting right next to her, their shoulders touching and his mouth in a ghost of a boasting smirk.

"W-what?" Molly asked, a bit breathless from his voice cutting through the silence as she lowered her legs back onto the ground. Not only that, Sherlock sat back into the sofa, lounging, and his knee touched hers lightly. When he moved his leg away, Molly could still feel it just like she could still feel him holding her hand, even now when he really wasn't.

"That man is not the child's father. Can you not tell?" he asked, a slight tinge of arrogance in his voice.

"Of course I can't, Sherlock. Not everyone is as smart as you," she retorted a bit coldly as she took another gulp of her orange juice.

Molly removed her gaze from the television when Sherlock sat up slowly, his eyes raking over her face with interest and maybe worry, but Molly couldn't tell.

"Don't do that," she told him suddenly.

"Don't do what?"

"Study me like that. I hate it. I can practically hear the harsh remarks you've already begun to compile," she glared at him, surprised at how honest she was being with him.

"You couldn't possibly have known what I was thinking."

"I can certainly assume," she whispered.

Molly had returned her gaze to the television, while Sherlock's remained on Molly. His hand came up to caress her face, his thumb rubbing lightly over the skin under her eye, makeup coming off onto his finger.

"I hurt you again didn't I?"

Molly tensed. _Of course he noticed_, she thought and sighed internally. Before Molly could answer his question, there was a light knock on the door. Sherlock's hand dropped immediately as if he realized what he had been doing, how his body was betraying himself once again. Molly got up with reluctance; she may be mad at him but the physical contact of his warm hand on her face still made her heart leap in the smallest way.

Another knock came from the door, "Coming," Molly yelled, her voice cracked slightly as if speaking aloud could potentially spill out all of the things she wanted to say.

She opened the door a crack and when she peered out, she sighed heavily with relief.

"Striker," she grinned and hugged the man, "Thank you so much for coming."

"Hey, Molls," he said wrapping his arms around his friend, "What's wrong, dear? You look troubled."

"It's nothing," she stepped closer to Striker and whispered, "Sherlock's here. He walked me home last night and I told him to stay because it was too cold outside."

Striker smiled crookedly, "You guys didn't…"

"No," she hissed at him, exasperated, "I just want him to leave. I can't handle being around him right now," she whispered even lower now, "Now more than ever I want to tell him how I feel but he's… frustrating."

"Did he do something to you, Moll? If he did I'll kick his-"

"No. It's nothing I can't handle," she told him simply because she didn't feel like dumping all of it on to her worried friend, "Wait in my room, yeah? Just give me a minute to get rid of him."

Striker laid a hand on her shoulder momentarily and did as she asked.

Molly walked back into the living room to find Sherlock with his eyes closed, fingers steepled under his chin.

"I block off all other noises when I go into my mind palace. Didn't want to eavesdrop," he explained.

"How'd you know I was standing in front of you then?"

His eyes opened and he sat up, "I could smell your shampoo – a mixture of pomegranate and lemon – and the slight scent of your flowery perfume still lingering faintly after your shower. I remember these things about you," he added because even he thought that he sounded a bit strange. He wanted to tell her that she has a room in hir mind palace, only for her, that had filled up substantially over the past days, but the words never came.

"Alright, umm…" Molly lost her train of thought and she blushed lightly, "Striker's here and I was wondering-"

"I understand," Sherlock said coolly as if her presence neither satisfied nor displeased him. _I don't understand and I don't want to leave,_ he thought to only himself.

Molly followed him into the foyer and watched him as he shrugged on his coat and wrapped his scarf tautly around his neck. He opened the door and started to close it and Molly felt disappointed that he didn't even want to say goodbye to her.

His head poked out from the crack in the door, "We aren't done here. I still need to talk to you. Come by Baker Street later, any time will be fine," he went to leave once again before his head reappeared, "If you want of course," he told her with a shy smile that shocked even Molly. Molly had seen him go from content to utter rage in a matter of seconds. She couldn't help but like how boyish he looked when he smiled at her like he did now. She kicked herself inwardly, _It's not like you'll see him look at you like that again_, she told herself.

"I'll see if I can make it," she said, neither telling him yes nor no. Maybe he should know how being clueless is sometime in his life and Molly thought it would be somewhat amusing to fill that void.

"Goodbye," he nodded to her and closed the door behind himself in a swift motion. Molly thought it would have been funny if one of his curls had caught in the door but she dismissed it with a shake of her head.

She went to tell Striker it was all clear before he called to her, "In the living room."

Striker was sitting in the middle of the sofa, wearing black trousers and a dark blue tee that showed off his definitive muscles.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked as he flipped through channels on her television.

"I don't know," she huffed lightly and sat down next to him, swinging her legs into his lap and lounging with her back on the arm rest. Striker slapped his hands on her legs lightly to an unknown tune; Striker was the drummer in a band that changed their name every week. This week they were apparently called the Sea Vegetable Conspiracy, but Molly knew that he would tell her whatever had come to mind at the time. She thought being a drummer at his age was silly, but Molly supported him nonetheless.

Striker spoke about his boyfriend of almost two weeks as if he had known the man for his entire life. She learned that this other man, Luke, was an aspiring artist. Molly had always been jealous of those who could pick up a pencil and draw whatever they want; she couldn't draw a straight line to save her life.

"I'm going to go see Sherlock later tonight," she said aloud once Striker seemed to have been done speaking.

"What for? I thought you didn't want to be around him."

"It's complicated," she tried her best to explain, "Our conversation was left unfinished and I can't avoid it. Might as well get it over with."

"What do you imagine will be so bad about it?" he questioned, confused.

"It's Sherlock. Anything could happen," she sighed, "He probably wants to talk about the tension between us; how he wants everything to go back to normal. Where I'm his part time pathologist, full time play toy," she said, her voice defeated and tired.

"Molly. I've seen the way he looks at you. You do matter to him. He just doesn't know how to express it. He's a mystery. I can't quite tell to what extent his care for you reaches. You can at least hope for friendship."

"I don't want to be his friend," she exclaimed, frustrated, "It's so hard to see him every day and know that I'll never have him. I tell myself that someday he'll notice me and every time I say that, more days pass where I'm still alone."

Molly put her hands in her face yet she didn't cry; she was out of tears anyways.

After a moment, Striker spoke, "You never know. Maybe he likes pecans and peanuts."

"What?" she questioned, her eyes squinting at him in confusion.

"You always take the M&M's out of trail mix, yet you don't eat anything else in it."

Molly laughed at him and ruffled her friend's blond hair, "You always know what to say to cheer me up," she smiled at him, her face slightly hopeful. Molly always treated Striker as if she was the little brother she never had.

He smiled equally at her, "Let's watch some crap telly and eat premade cake frosting."

"Let's," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. Molly spent the next several hours not giving a damn about Sherlock and his stupid, beautiful face.

**BOOM! (SHAM WOW?! Lol no ;D *have I frustrated you yet?*) Sorry about the angst guise. Remember, I don't like to watch people suffer, I like to inflict it and pretend I'm not actually causing any pain...**

**~Mel **


	5. Retreating From Feelings

**Hey all! I don't really have much to say besides... shoutouts?!**

**Rocking the Redhead- Thanks for the review, dear! I'm glad that you think they're in character! Hope you like this chapter too!**

**ThefadingdaysofMay- Wow oh my I am so sorry for your loss! I'm glad that you had some good memories of him due to me, that touches my heart. Thank you so much for the review, you beautiful May!**

**deadgurlagain- Haha yeah i teasin! I would totally consider reading that but right now i'm in the middle of two series lol. Thanks so much for the review!**

**Penelope Rose Gibbons- Omfg that is so sweet of you! Aww *hugs your face* I'm so glad you like it! Thank you so much! :)**

**Guest- Ahh yes I wrote Striker as a friend I would definitely want to have. Although I do hate when people are like omg a gay person I need to be friends with them to have a gay friend (i don't know if that's the deal in other places but that's how it's like at my school urg) So happy that your a fan of both of my fics! I look forward to your reviews on both, dear!**

**MorbidbyDefault- Haha I kill you with angst *kills you with angst* haha! Glad you liked it! Hope to see another review from you on both of my fics! Thanks a lot, dear!**

**gforcejedi- Aww thanks! Of course I gave you a shoutout durr. lol! Thanks for the review as always!**

**Aviatress- Haha yes I knew that would strike someone's attention! And it was you yay! So glad you liked it! Can't wait for your next review ;D**

**MizJoely- Haha okay... Thanks for the review anyways *confused face***

**Empress of Verace- Haha that's because I like to mess with people if you haven't noticed lol. Yeah I am so glad that Striker is being loved so much! Thanks for the review and constant love dear!**

**Whenthebirddies- Bahaha if I was drinking something right now while I read your response, I would have spit it all over the place too! Aww omfg I'm so glad I help you. Just fyi, Sherlock's voice is very, very sexy ;) That is so not true I can tell! Of course you've made someone happy before whether it's over the internet or just walking into a room! I am so honored that you feel that way about me and I am legit crying right now due to that last sentence. Thank you so much. Can you seriously like PM so we can talk and be best friends? Don't be shy just be like hey and tell me about yourself and we can be best friends. Okay? Okay.**

**AdaYuki- Haha where's your LOVED IT?! Whoops made you too frustrated lol! Thanks for the review!**

**Sherlolly-221B- Aww thank you so much! Haha good job trying to amend that lol! Haha do you only eat the M&M's too? I was doing the same thing while writing so I included it cause it seemed cute I guess. So glad you like it! Thanks again :)**

**STORY TIME BITCHES! (you aren't bitches ily)**

Molly had fallen asleep next to Striker on her couch. When she woke up it was nearly ten at night. She sat up hastily, careful not to wake her friend, and got ready. She remained in the clothes she was wearing and ran her hands through her slightly disheveled hair. Pulling on her brown coat, she made for Baker Street.

Molly quickly departed from the cab and threw the note at the cabbie, yelling a "thank you" from over her shoulder.

She bounded up the stairs of 221B, still soft enough, though, not to wake Mrs. Hudson. As she reached the top of the stairs, Molly forced herself to catch her breath for a moment before she opened the door slowly. Soft, haunting music emanated from the violin Sherlock had propped under his chin and Molly could only make out his silhouette, the only light in the room poured out of the window he stood in front of.

"Sorry that I came at such a late hour. I accidentally-"

"No need to explain yourself, Molly," he said as he retired the violin back into the worn, wooden case, "I told you to come at any time and here you are."

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Molly asked, yet she already knew the answer.

"I would like to continue our conversation if you are willing."

"Oh, of- of course," Molly stammered and kicked herself inwardly for it.

Sherlock brought his hand up and motioned for her to sit on the sofa. She did and Sherlock sat on the opposite end as if Molly had a disease. She frowned slightly at his blatant need to be as far away from her as possible. As if Sherlock could read her mind and her expression, he inched closer towards the center of the sofa, both turned in their seats towards each other.

"I'm sorry about the way I've been acting lately. I haven't really been myself. It's just…" Sherlock rubbed his eyes briefly with his fingers in frustration, "I've been feeling something different…"

"And what have you been feeling?" Molly managed to say, her voice catching in her throat.

"It's hard to explain," he described slowly, averting his eyes from her.

"You've been feeling regretful," Molly spoke for him, "You've been noticing the way you snap at me and you feel guilty about it. There's nothing wrong with being upset with yourself for being mean towards another person. But there's something else," she started to tell him gently, "You've been more…forward towards me."

Molly never thought she would see this, but Sherlock had started to blush slightly yet he hid it well.

"Holding my hand, kissing my forehead. In all honesty, I didn't mind it at first. But now I can see what you're doing, Sherlock. I'm not going to allow you to play with me like you do that violin. I'm a human being. You can't just do this to me. Make me hope for something that will never…" Molly tried her best to keep her voice under control, but it cracked miserably under pressure.

Molly clasped her hand over her mouth for a short moment and looked at Sherlock again, "I've already said too much," she whispered, gathering her bag and making to stand.

She was stopped by Sherlock's outstretched hand on her shoulder. She looked down at it and then at him. He saw what was hidden beneath her easy expression and removed his hand from her, but almost with a reluctant retreat.

"Molly, you've got it all wrong."

"Do I?" she asked with a defeated laugh, "That's certainly how I see what's going on here. It's not like you actually…" Molly couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"It's not that I actually what?"

"It's nothing. I-" Molly looked away.

"Molly," he said slowly, "Finish your sentence. Please," his fingers gripped his knee, his knuckles whiting. Molly didn't seem to notice.

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly and never looked at Sherlock straight in the eye, "It's not like you actually like me," she finally said in a small voice and Sherlock had almost missed her words.

Molly looked down at her hands and fidgeted with them in her lap.

She hadn't noticed that Sherlock had moved several inches closer to her and his knee had brushed up against hers. Sherlock's hand shook slightly as he reached up and put a finger under Molly's chin. He lifted it up slowly, making her to look at him. Tears had started to form in her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. Sherlock ran his hand across Molly's cheek, tangling his fingers in the hair just behind her ear. Her breath hitched and her eyes looked tired.

"Sherlock, don't. This isn't fair to me. You must understand. You can't just touch me and then leave me to wonder."

"I do understand but something you don't understand is this; I have been acting different lately. Something's changed. I can't quite pinpoint it but I'm not playing with you. There is something I still don't entirely understand though."

"And what is that?" Molly asked. She wished she could lean in and kiss him or put her hand on top of his, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I don't understand why I'm doing this," he said slowly as if he was thinking aloud. A pang of hurt riddled Molly and she backed away from Sherlock, his hand falling victim to abandonment.

"Why? Because touching, liking, or thinking about me is so difficult, so _revolting_," Molly spat at him as he stared at her in confusion.

Molly couldn't stop the tears now and they rolled down her cheek. She promised herself, and Striker, that she would be strong but she couldn't help it. It was finally the time that Sherlock had to see, really _see_, how he affected her, how he made her feel like rubbish.

Finally, Sherlock snapped out of his momentary speechlessness, "Molly, that's not what I meant. I-"

"I think I've heard enough. I- I have to leave."

Molly collected her bag off the ground in front of her, not even attempting to rid her face of shed tears. Before Molly had reached the door, Sherlock grabbed her upper arm, trying to make her turn back around and stay. She did and the palm of her hand connected with his face as she slapped him.

"Jesus," Sherlock hissed under his breath, "What was that for?" he looked at her with pain in his eyes, his hand coming up to cup his red cheek.

"Oh god, Sherlock, I'm sorry," Molly went to step closer, her hand outstretched, but she didn't and let her hand fall to her side once again.

His eyes seem to soften, "No Molly, it's alright."

Molly couldn't stand being here with Sherlock, not now. She quickly ran down the stairs, not bothering if she woke the landlady or not. She could hear Sherlock racing after her, calling her name but she didn't care. Molly emerged onto the pavement and didn't even take the time to stop and check her surroundings. She bumped into people, despite the late hour, and didn't bother to apologize. She was running, but not fast enough to get away from Sherlock. At some point he caught up with her and he held her again, this time by the sides of her face, his hands touching her skin lightly. He pulled her close, burying his fingers in her hair as he brought his lips down to meet hers in a long kiss. Molly wrapped her hands around his wrists and kissed him back slowly, relishing his lips on hers. As Sherlock pulled away, both were breathless. Neither of them could tell if it was from the kiss or the running, but they didn't care. Something passed over Sherlock's eyes that Molly couldn't decipher and then he blinked and they reemerged as the cold blue eyes she knew all too well.

"I shouldn't- I can't-," Sherlock shook his head and detached himself from her, his hand running through his dark hair.

"Sherlock-"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to retreat from her, "I'll- I'll see you tomorrow."

He disappeared into the crowd leaving Molly to feel empty and used. She made her way to the edge of the pavement and hailed a cab. Once she was inside, she told her driver her address and cried as quietly as possible.

She slid tiredly out of her seat as they arrived and she paid the cabbie, a worried look on the man's face.

"I hope you feel better," the man called out as Molly walked up to her building. _So do I_, she thought. As soon as she locked her door, she covered Striker up in a quilt and retired to her bedroom. She shrugged off her clothes and took a shower; she felt dirty even though she had taken a shower just this morning, and she dried her hair before she put on an oversized t-shirt. Molly was out of tears and she lie on her bed, her arms wrapped around herself tightly and her knees curled up to her stomach. Molly didn't even bother to cover herself with the duvet under her and she soon fell asleep out of stress. If it was any other day, any other insult, she would be up for hours. Soon enough, she was woken by a crash outside her window.

**BOOM! Okay wait for it... BOOOOOM! *sheilds eyes from explosion* I love you guys so much for loving Striker cause seriously having an original character that's so well liked makes me so happy and makes me feel accomplished i guess *blushes* I'm on break til the 8th so updates should be more often! I feel so special that my stories are getting more and more popular (like seriously there's a new follow or favorite every update) ILY guys so much *melts in happy tears***

**~Mel**


	6. Confessions

**Wassup?! Yes hi this is I your (the storie's) creator! Shoutouts WHOOP.**

**AdaYuki- Aww no it's fine, dear! Just glad you loved it! :)**

**Rocking the Redhead- Haha I'm that everything looks in character! Striker will come in more next chapter I promise!**

**MizJoely- Haha nah it's fine! I hope this chapter satisfies you!**

**Renaissancebooklover108- Haha yes! I can't rewatch Sherlock and call him that whenever he's mean to Molly. I YELL at the tv it's apparently quite a sight haha! Thanks for the review obviously!**

**MorbidbyDefault- Haha I think this chapter will satisfy your Sherlolly feels xD Thank you so much! You're too kind seriously! You keep up the good work too!**

**Aviatress- Haha aww that is so sweet! Thanks for putting up with my tumblr as well xD Nah I'm part Irish the clovers are fine! Top of the mornin' to ya ;D (it's night where I am o.O)**

**ThefadingdaysofMay- Aww thank you so much! Just fab darling FAB.**

**Whenthebirddies- Hey, dear! I am so honored that you did that you made me flail a little...well a lot! Of course you can do that it's so sweet! SHAM WOW? No darling it's SHAM NOW!**

**JazzSambora- Aww all is okay dear! This chapter should help your poor shipper heart :) Striker will be in the next chapter a lot more than this one I promise!**

**Empress of Verace- Aww thank you! This chapter will soothe your nasty shipper burns ooh feels good. Wow that was weird *DELETE* No I really do have break til then haha! Oh no so sorry about all of the work you have to do *tears for you* Thanks so much for the review, dear!**

**KaterinaPond- Aww you made my heart go wAH! Thanks so much for your kind words! :D**

**v LOOKIE v **

Molly's eyes shot open as she heard a definitive crash just outside her window. She fumbled blindly in the dark as she reached under her mattress and sensed the foreign feeling of a gun between her fingers. She pulled it out completely and stood, facing the window. Her hands shook almost in a violent manner and she licked her lips, her heart beating at an alarming rate. Molly had never shot anyone before and she didn't want to now. Striker emerged from her bedroom door and scared Molly half to death, but she knew it was him even if she could barely see him in the dark. He must've woken in the night, Molly figured because now he was in boxer shorts and a worn out tee.

"Molls, what's going on?" he asked and once he saw the gun, all sleep vanished from his eyes.

"Someone's out there," she whispered, her voice panicked.

The window opened painstakingly slow and Striker moved behind Molly, his arm outstretched to the lamp on her nightstand. Just as he turned it on, a head and then a pair of shoulders appeared and the figure landed in her room in an ungraceful manner. It was Sherlock, his hair disheveled and his face flushed. Molly didn't realize she still had her gun trained on him until he raised his hands slowly.

"S-sorry," Molly quickly lowered it to her side. The safety was still on.

Sherlock straightened his coat, "Apology accepted," Sherlock's gaze fell on Striker momentarily, "Nice to see you again, Striker."

Striker looked from me to him, "What are you doing here?" he asked Sherlock.

"Well that's not a very nice way to start off a conversation. I wished to speak to Molly and-"

"So you climb through a window? At this hour?" Striker laughed, "Molly could have shot you."

"Striker, it's okay. Just go back to bed, yeah?" Molly placed a hand on his arm.

Striker ripped his stare from Sherlock and rested it on her, his expression somehow confused, angry, and pleased all at the same time.

"K, Molls," Striker squeezed her hand as he left, letting her know that she needed to be strong.

Molly watched him leave and once the door had shut, she looked over at Sherlock. He still stood where he was standing before and if anything else, he looked awkward and out of place.

"Did you seriously just climb up the fire escape? I'm seven floors up. What if you fell?"

"I wouldn't have. I'm not very clumsy."

Molly was about to roll her eyes until she saw where Sherlock's gaze flickered over. Her legs were completely exposed seeing that she was only wearing an oversized t-shirt on top of her underclothes.

"S-sorry," she apologized once again, retired the gun back under her mattress, and she returned to her bed. She rested her back on the headboard and covered herself with the duvet in front of her. Sherlock, who was noticing too much now, took in account how small she looked as she curled her legs in on herself. He didn't know how he felt about what was happening to him; all he thought about was Molly lately and he thought he was fine with it until _it_ happened. She appeared everywhere; in his dreams and in his mind palace. Just yesterday he was writing case notes and when he looked down, he had scrawled Molly Hooper six times across the page consecutively.

"That was the most ungraceful thing I ever saw you do."

Sherlock unconsciously brushed off his shoulders, "That could have been better executed yes."

"What are you doing here anyways?" she asked whilst wrapping the duvet closer to her body.

Sherlock sat down next to her, resting his own back on her headboard. He crossed his ankles and folded his hands in his lap, "I came to apologize."

Molly sat forward slightly and looked up at the man sitting next to her. It was always a different form of that sentence that hit home in her heart because it was always such a rarity to hear him say it. Now it felt like Molly was bombarded with them whenever they crossed paths. It was then that she realized that Sherlock, was in fact, trying to make a good man of himself for her.

He continued, "I shouldn't have kissed you."

Molly could already feel tears well up in her eyes. After a long pause, she spoke, "Why not?"

"Because," he turned to look at her and his shoulder came to rest on hers. She expected him to move, but he didn't, "I don't know what I'm doing, Molly."

Something passed over Sherlock's eyes, the same thing she saw in his eyes when he kissed her, but this time it didn't go away. It showed vulnerability and she had never seen that in him before. Sherlock saw the tears that formed in hers but chose to ignore them.

"I don't understand, Sherlock," Molly wiped at her eyes hurriedly and looked down at Sherlock's hands that rested in his lap, "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I feel different. I feel something new for you that I never thought I would feel. When I said that I didn't know why I was touching you, I didn't mean it like that. I just…"

Molly's hand shook in front of her, but it stopped once she intertwined Sherlock's fingers with her own, the gesture urging him to go on.

"I'm not that kind of person. I don't show affection to others. But you. You're the exception to that," he whispered and he took her hand in both of his, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of her hand.

"What's brought this on?"

After a long moment, he looked her in the eye, and his softened, "I've seen the way you look at me. Even after what I did, what I said, you still looked at me with the same fondness and the same eyes. You looked at me with eyes that know and understand and no one's ever looked at me like that before. You made me feel important and it was different. You're different. Molly, I-"

But before Sherlock could say anything else, Molly covered his lips with hers. Sherlock responded almost instantly as if he knew that she would do exactly what she was doing. Their lips seemed to discover each other and Sherlock held her face more desperately now. They became like fluid against each other and Molly was practically sitting in Sherlock's lap now. His arms wrapped protectively around her back, bringing her all the more closer to him. Molly rested one hand his chest, the other dug deeply into his hair. Her mind was reeling and she pushed on Sherlock's chest, forcing their lips to separate.

"What is it? Do you want me to stop? Did I hurt you?" Sherlock asked her worriedly, his forehead resting against hers.

"Sherlock…" Molly breathed. Sherlock smelled like smoke and chemicals and Molly breathed in deeply a second time as she relished it, "I need to know if this is real."

"Of course it's real what are you on about?" Sherlock laughed and it shook her, making her hair stand on end. He smiled up at her genuinely.

"I need to know if this is sincere."

"Did you not hear what I said before?"

Molly bit her lip, "I know it's just-"

Sherlock hushed her by kissing her once and he traced his finger along her jaw line, "Molly, it took a lot of myself just to tell you that. I wouldn't joke about something so serious. I would never do that to you. Not to you, not ever."

Molly smiled and Sherlock smirked in response. It was a rare sight to see and she loved the way he smiled almost like a little boy at her. They both slid down to the bed and Molly pushed the duvet over them as Sherlock lay on his back. She rested her hand over Sherlock's heart and found it beating rapidly. She nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck and he laughed at her, his arms coming around to wrap about her waist. He kissed the top of her forehead and then bowed his head to bring his lips to hers. She took pleasure in the way their lips and their bodies fit together perfectly and Molly hummed against his mouth.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

There was no response for some time, and Molly looked up at Sherlock. He had fallen asleep already and Molly was thankful because he probably hadn't slept in days. Their breaths matched and Sherlock snored slightly which made her laugh. She wondered what a morning-Sherlock looked like, but he would be gone before she could get the chance.

**BOOM! Aight you guys I wrote this chapter over twice and I think I'm content with this. My beta, FreeSpiritSeeker, said it was beyond cuteness so I hope ya'll think so too :) I hope this meets your standards *nervous face* Striker will be much more prominent in the next chapter because he is a Sherlolly shipper obviously ;D Leave a review and I'll love you 5ever because 4ever is too short. **

**~Mel**


	7. I'd Rather Be Here

**Hey ya'll! So sorry this took two weeks WOW. Shoutouts to you lovely people :)**

**KaterinaPond- Aww. omfg. That is so nice! THank you so much!**

**4UISUNI2- Whoops. Awkwardness is my forte just ask anyone who knows me in real life xD Thanks for the review as always!  
**

**Rocking the Redhead- Is beyond cute better than stinking cute *ponders* Haha I loved writing that in too. Ungraceful!Sherlock xD**

**JazzSombara- No I am never going to get sick of that! Keep saying it it fuels my love. The more I love this chapter the more fluff ;) *hinty hint hint***

**Sherlolly-221B- Haha I'm sorry xD Legendary?! That's too generous! Haha you're so funny! Your reviews make me laugh! Thanks so much, dear!**

**Penelope Rose Gibbons- For a moment I was mad at you. When people say its ooc then it does offend them. But I understand where you're coming from and I can agree with you on that. I do commend you though, for saying things you like about it too instead of just saying its ooc and then be done with it. Thank you for the review :D**

**MizJoely- Haha thank you! I'm so glad you like it :)**

**Empress of Verace- Wow thanks! I'm so glad you love my oc! Yes it is. I say it all the time in real life and I think it annoys people *questioning face* As I reread what I said to you in the last shoutout, I kinda sounded sarcastic but really I meant the tears hahaSee ya soon, dear! Much love XX**

**Aviatress- How many loads? Like... buttloads? xD Thanks for the constant love, sweetie!**

**gforcejedi- Aww I'm honored to kill you! ~*realizes that is creepsta*~ I know right?! Sherlolly ftw! Thanks for the review as always. You changed your profile picture *gasps***

**AdaYuki- I am so sorry, dear! It took so long! I'm so glad you still love this drabble. Thank you so much for the review, dear! :D**

** . - Haha yehp. I love Jensen Ackles and Superntural. It's like a religion for me xD Thanks for the review! Hope to see you again!**

**AIGHT PEEPS.**

Striker woke up to the alarm on his phone. He hit the button angrily with his thumb and sat up with reluctance. He removed the quilt from his lap and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. It was 7:00 a.m. and Striker had to be at work in an hour. Whenever Striker slept over at Molly's flat, he would wake her up before he took a shower and she would make breakfast. With Sherlock here, however, he deemed that as inappropriate, and he skipped the shower. He padded lazily into the kitchen and put on the kettle to make himself a hot cup of coffee to start the day. He looked in the refrigerator and Molly had run out of eggs, so he popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and smeared peanut butter on them once they were done. With a hot cup in his hand and bread stuffed in his mouth, Striker sat down at the small dining table. A minute later, he heard the familiar creak of Molly's bedroom door. He looked up from his cup expecting to see Molly, yet he was met with the sight of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, with his coat still on, made for the door and completely ignored Striker's presence.

"Where are you off to?" Striker turned in his seat to look at him.

Sherlock whipped around, his shoulders slumped in annoyance, "What is it to you?"

"What happened last night?"

"Why did you avoid the question?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Striker stood and walked towards Sherlock slowly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking up at him. Both men were tall, yet Sherlock was still a good inch taller than Striker.

"Molly is my best friend," Striker explained.

"So you must know everything that happens to her?" Sherlock asked, his annoyance with the other man shining through like a beacon.

"Yes," Striker responded quickly and without hesitation, "We've had this conversation before. Obviously something occurred last night. You slept over and I couldn't hear anything so you two only cuddled I assume."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the painfully childish word, "cuddled."

"So I'm right," Striker observed due to Sherlock's behavior, "So where are you going? Are you just going to leave her with her arms empty and the sheets next to her cold? Are you really that stupid?"

Sherlock glared down at Striker, "I do not have to explain myself to you," he spat.

"To hell you don't," Striker stood his ground, "Molly loves you."

Sherlock was unmoved by his statement.

Striker laughed at him, "And you know it's true. She's loved you ever since you two met and every time you open your stupid mouth, you break her down to pieces. Do you even realize how fucked up you are?" Striker laughed at Sherlock in pity, and became suddenly serious, "You will never begin to grasp how much I want to beat the sense into your bloody head. She is nothing but loving and kind and generous. She tries so hard to see you every day with a smile on her face, yet she knows that you're going to berate every cell in her goddamn body," Striker's voice was rising with anger.

He ran a hand through his hair disappointedly, once he heard Molly's door open once again. Both men plastered a smirk on their faces, Striker trying much harder than Sherlock.

"What's all the shouting about?" she crossed her arms in front of her, her mouth in a thin line. She now wore a blouse with a light pink hue, a tan cardigan hugged around her body, and a simple pair of jeans. Her chocolate tresses were tied up in a messy bun and straggles of hair hung around her face. Sherlock refrained from letting his breath hitch.

"Y'know," Striker said with ease, picking his mug up again, "Just a measly science debate."

Molly was about to ask about the topic, before Striker put his cup in the sink with a clang, "Sorry, Molls, I gotta dash."

"Whatever for?" Molly questioned and she shifted her weight to her other foot in discomfort. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to be alone with Sherlock right now.

"Ugh…going to see my boyfriend. For brunch!" he said a little bit too enthusiastically. Striker put on his shoes and coat and made for the door.

"Striker, dear?" Molly laughed.

"Yeah, Molls?" he asked, holding his best friend's arms.

"You're in your pants," Molly smiled with amusement. Striker looked down at himself and realized that he was still in his t-shirt and boxers. For a moment he was embarrassed until he looked back up at Molly with a stupid grin.

"I knew that. Of course," he chuckled shortly. Striker grabbed his clothes and went to change in the bathroom. Molly was fully aware of Sherlock's gaze on her the entire morning and she made some coffee to distract herself from his critical stare. To her surprise, he sat down at the dining table, clasping his hands in front of himself tightly.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked without turning to look at him.

"I don't have any cases and I have nothing better to do. Black-"

"Two sugars," she finished with a sweet smile, "I'm sure you have data to collect on a new experiment at Baker Street. You can leave if you wish."

"I'd rather be here," even Sherlock's eyes flared with amazement. It was true, nonetheless.

After deliberating some, Molly spoke again, "You're welcome to stay. For as long as you want," she said without hesitancy.

"Thank you. You are very generous," he replied as she set his coffee down in front of him. The sincerity of his words warmed Molly's heart and the rude pang of her love and admiration for him threatened to burst out of her chest.

Striker emerged from the hallway, dressed in a dark blue dress shirt tucked into his black jeans, "I'll see ya, Molls."

Striker held her arms again and kissed her soundly on the cheek. He pulled her into a friendly hug and whispered to her, "You're a bombshell," and laughed. Molly ruffled his hair lovingly and Striker detached himself from her. It was the sweet and unexpected comments from him that kept her happy. His gaze fell on Sherlock who sat at the dining table, looking uncomfortable.

Striker outstretched his hand, and Sherlock took it after a moment of hesitance, "Nice to see you again, Sherlock," his gaze was hard and his grip was tight.

"Likewise," Sherlock nodded to him and Striker left with an accomplished smirk touching his lips.

She sat down across from him and put her feet up on the seat next to his. She almost removed them, because she figured it was unlady-like, but she reminded herself that she was in her own home and kept them there. There was a sort of awkwardness between them now and neither knew of the other's feelings about what had happened the prior night. Molly had been so incredibly happy that Sherlock, of all people, was in her bed and holding her as if she was his anchor. When she woke up this morning alone, she thought that it was a one-time thing. He needed her just that once and he wouldn't pay her another minute of his time. But now he was sitting across from her, his gaze soft on hers and he _wanted _to stay.

"You two weren't talking about science," Molly pointed out.

Sherlock didn't respond.

"I heard most of what you two said," she admitted, "You don't need to treat me like a china doll. I'm a grown woman and I am _not_ fragile."

"You think I don't know that?" Sherlock leaned forward in his seat.

Molly looked up from her cup, locking her eyes with his, "I don't know what you do. I don't know how you feel," her tone was slightly exasperated.

"It's better that way."

"Why? Why do you choose to bottle up all semblances of emotion?" Molly could feel the brink of her anger slowly coming closer, the precipice of it taunting her with every passing moment.

"Emotion equals weakness. Caring is never an advantage," his voice was as cold as ice.

Molly's heart sank. She slowly reached across the table to clasp Sherlock's hand in hers and he closed the space between them by himself. It was something that Sherlock seemed to find comfort or familiarity in and Molly's heart became a little lighter.

Molly looked at him with empathy, "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

Sherlock looked up at her in surprise, "Pardon me?"

"Sherlock that's just- just so wrong. I used to think the same way, but I was stupid then. Caring is the complete opposite. Caring can have its own strife, yet the good part of it will always live with you and you'll be grateful that you experienced something so beautiful."

"I think you're beautiful," Sherlock blurted out, completely baffled that he even said it allowed. Lately, Molly had this effect on him and everything he thought about her would spill past his lips.

Molly blushed and looked away, "Thank you," there was a short pause where she was slightly dazed and Sherlock looked at her, his eyes hopeful and a flush across his cheeks.

Molly seemed to suddenly remember how to speak, and she looked at Sherlock again, his blush gone, "You may be a genius, Sherlock, but you're a complete imbecile when it comes to feelings," Molly regretted the statement immediately and the hand that was holding Sherlock's flew up to cover her mouth in shock. She wanted the floor to open up so she could escape from what was to come, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Sherlock was somewhat lost for a moment as his hand, which had been warmed by hers, was left abandoned. Molly looked at him, her eyes fearful. She didn't expect him to make a short laugh or smile at her, yet he did.

"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" Molly thought the way he was acting would quickly snap into something much more severe, but it still didn't, "Why are you smiling at me? I just insulted you," her hand came to rest on her chest and she felt her heart beat rapidly with nervousness.

"No, you didn't," Sherlock sobered slightly, his smile turning into a smirk, "It's true. I am a complete and utter idiot when it comes to that. Not even science can explain the changing of emotions, of feelings, and it always bothered me. It is most definitely my weakest area."

Molly's heart went out for him and she composed herself, "I'm sure that's not true."

"Then what is my weakest area?" he asked her, his eyes curious.

Molly chose her words carefully this time, "You're blind."

"I can see, Molly. Perhaps you are the one who cannot," Sherlock was amused. Maybe those had not been the correct words she had hoped for.

"No, no," she shook her head at him and she didn't quite meet his gaze, "That's not what I meant. I mean… you can't see what's right in front of you. _Who's_ right in front of you," she corrected herself, "And I'm not just talking about myself. John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft; they all love you, yet you refuse to believe that they do."

"That is where you are wrong. I am aware that they are fond of me, you could call it love if that's how you see it, but I don't understand why."

"Because you're brilliant. John loves you because you're best friends. Can you even imagine where he'd be right now if you wouldn't have let him into your life? I don't know Mrs. Hudson all that well, but I know for a fact that she thinks of you like she would a son. Lestrade loves you because you've been his friend for years and he appreciates and respects the work that you do. And Mycroft. He's your brother, of course he loves you. There may be a considerable amount of animosity between the two of you, but he still loves you."

Sherlock let her words sink in and he looked up at her slowly, "And why do _you_ love me?"

"Because I shouldn't."

**BOOM! Dats right. I just blew your minds. Try to refrain from making the sounds of our people (fangirls) and squeal out in feels. I am so sorry that this took 2 whole goddamn weeks to write. I wasn't even blocked just lazy. Sorry brostas. I also wrote a one-shot that will be posted as soon as my beta gets back to me so I hope you guys look out for it and read and review! Please bbys?**

**~Mel**


	8. Exploring and Exposing

**Heya guys! Shoutouts?!**

**Whenthebirddies- Nah it's fine, dear! I've never been in a relationship so I'm glad that it seems I know a lot about love haha! Haha I love you too, dear! NO it's BOOM.**

**Rocking the Redhead- Haha okay I'll take your word for it! So glad you liked it! Thanks for the lovely comments :D**

**Penelope Rose Gibbons- Thank you like wow. I'm afraid you may not like this chapter very much thought xD I really appreciate your honesty and having characters under control (most of the time) is such a great compliment. Thanks again!**

**MizJoely- I run this fic so I expected it ;D Thanks!**

**Guest- I know right! Not to get all high and mighty but I loved that too! Thanks for the review! :D**

** Zora Arian- Haha okay no more brostas ;D Well he isn't in this chapter sorry! Thanks!**

**JazzSambora- Aww that is so sweet of you to say! I missed you too, dear! Thanks for the review!**

**shepweir always- Aww thanks! Just ignore my early chapters of SD they're awful xD Keep reviewing and tell me what you think!**

**deadgurlagain- I know right I loved that! Haha he would agree ;D**

**KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun- More like los sentimientos! Haha thanks for the review!**

**Empress of Verace- Haha I know but a girl can try ;D Yeah I loved that line too! Aww I missed you too, dear! Thanks for the steadfast support!**

**Aviatress- Yeah I like my BOOMS haha! Thanks for the review!**

**Sherlolly-221B- Aww that is so sweet! No don't die I live off of reviews xD I'm glad I made your ugh worthy morning! Thanks for your review!**

**Aight peeps! You might just love me by the end of this chapter... js...**

She shouldn't love him, yet she did. Out of all of the decent people in the world, she choose Sherlock Holmes; the burnt and broken shell of a man. After her more or less confession of her love for him, they remained steadfast to each other's side. Neither of them really realized this, but neither of them would have minded anyways. He was constantly in the morgue hovering over her as she worked or watching her from afar. In the beginning of this, Molly would blush or offered to leave if she was being distracting. She soon found that whenever she asked this question, he would always walk up, wrap his arms about her waist, and place a slow, compassionate kiss to her lips. Most of the time, this would escalate quickly, and minutes later both of them would come up for air. She relished in the way that he held her as their breaths slowed and eventually matched. When he pulled away, she could see he was reluctant in doing so. Molly, on the other hand, wished that she could be more forward in her advances. She would sometimes wrap her arms around him and rest her chin on his shoulder when he worked, but that was as much as she could muster without blushing.

Now, Sherlock glared down at the mold sample under his microscope, not quite paying attention to how the cells moved and mutated. Molly was mere inches away, sitting in the stool next to him. Her body was turned towards him and her elbow rested on the counter, her cheek held up by her hand. With the other hand, she wrote slowly on a piece of paperwork in her large, flowing handwriting. He thought that he could feel the heat of her body, her breath on his neck, but he pushed such thoughts away. Most of the things that danced around in his mind, these days, revolved around her. The smallest details about Molly collected in his mind like a barricade and he didn't seem to be as keen as he used to be because of this. His ears soon registered the low humming to an unknown tune and he looked up briefly, his eyes falling onto Molly. She didn't notice his gaze on her for some time and she hummed on, until she took a break from writing and looked up. A blush already began to form on her face.

"S-sorry," she played with the ends of her hair and hastily returned to her work.

Sherlock smiled at the way she became nervous around him and he looked back into his microscope. Of course, his mind drifted to her again and he breathed deeply once, taking in the way she smelled of pomegranate shampoo and latex gloves. He began to recall the conversation they had at her flat just this morning and he couldn't help but be proud of how honest she was being with him. When she said that she shouldn't love him, he understood what she had meant. The fact that he degraded her constantly should have resulted in a severing of friendship and future interactions. Despite the odds, she stayed. She was the kind of person who never gave up on anyone, no matter what and Sherlock was genuinely happy that he had her in his life. She was a light in the darkness that seemed to surround him constantly and for once, his mind told him to go towards the light. It was as if she had raised him up from perdition, the deepest depths of hell, and brought him to safety. He was punished with damnation and she was the only one who really believed that he could not only be strong enough to escape, but also be thankful afterwards for the help he was given. John believed in him, of course, but John wasn't entirely convinced that Sherlock could change. Molly saw past his façade which was something no one had ever been able to do, and that scared him. She had violated him in the way he had when he would point out her flaws and faults, but the hurt she had experienced was replaced with the strange mixture of confusion and admiration that he was now feeling. She was certainly a mystery, but she was definitely not like any other case he had before. He decided that the time it would take to solve her, was immeasurable. Yet he had to try.

No longer interested in the cultures, Sherlock packed his things, shrugged on his coat, and wrapped his scarf round his neck. He stood by Molly expectantly and she looked up.

"Sorry, is there something you need?" a nervous smile spread across her face.

"Yes, Molly. The very thing I need is of the upmost importance to me. And can you guess what that is?"

Molly shook her head.

"You," he said and held out his hand to her.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I can't. My shift only started three hours ago," she waved at the clock on the wall.

Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets out of boredom. But she wasn't boring; it was merely an instinctual reflex. Whether the conversation at hand was about science or about the most trivial and meaningless things, Sherlock was never bored when the sound of her sweet voice seeped into his ears.

"Do you always follow the rules?" Sherlock asked as one eyebrow rose with interest.

"Not always. But I take my job seriously. I can't just leave in the middle of my shift."

Sherlock moved closer to her and reached into her lab coat pocket and placed her mobile in her hand, "Call Stanford. Tell him you're ill."

Molly's own eyebrow quirked up curiously, "Why should I take the day off to be with you?" she drummed her nails over the hard plastic on her mobile. A smile played at her lips.

"Because I would very much appreciate it," he said slowly and ran his hand up and down her arm in means to coax her.

After what seemed to be an internal deliberation with herself, Molly dialed his number and did what Sherlock asked. She claimed that she was suffering from a bad migraine and he let her off easy. Despite her original unwillingness, Molly smiled broadly at the idea of spending the rest of the day with the man she cared most for. She downplayed her excitement, and replaced her lab coat with her tan jacket. After filing some things away and resetting instruments that were out of place, she turned off the lights and followed Sherlock into the corridor. There, he interlaced his fingers loosely with hers as they walked slowly. Still holding her hand, Sherlock emerged onto the pavement with Molly by his side. She looked shyly about her when she noticed others noticing them and she was interrupted from her embarrassment as Sherlock began to pull her along.

"Where would you like to go?" Sherlock asked her as he weaved them expertly through a small crowd of people at a street corner.

"I don't know. You're the one who dragged me away from work. Surely you have something planned," Molly commented, her tone slightly annoyed.

"Not exactly," he admitted.

She laughed once at him. He looked down at her, savoring the quirkiness of her smile. He decided that they would take the tube.

As they sat down next to each other, Sherlock asked, "Pick a number between one and ten."

"Uhm…four."

"Perfect," Sherlock replied, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, her head under his chin, "We will ride until the fourth stop arrives and explore."

Molly snuggled further into his chest, breathed in his scent, and ran her nails over the fabric of his pants at the knee, "That sounds lovely."

Sherlock simply smiled in response and pushed her hair away from her forehead, kissing her there sweetly.

When the fourth stop arrived, they departed the tube and made their way to a nearby park. Nearing the end of the gravel path that wound through it, Sherlock plucked a lily from the ground and placed it behind Molly's ear. She looked up at it and smiled, "Thank you, Sherlock."

He hummed in response and kissed her on the forehead again and then slowly on her soft lips. There was a small store nearby that sold knick knacks and inexpensive curios. They split up into separate aisles looking for a small gift for the other. Molly discovered that finding a gift for Sherlock Holmes was not an easy task, but Sherlock knew her well and the gift he chose for her was perfect. They both met on the pavement outside, brown bags in their hands. Molly insisted that Sherlock opened his first, and after some bantering he agreed to do so. In the dimming light of London, Sherlock's slim fingers dove into the bag and revealed his gift. Molly took it out of his hand and placed it on his head.

"An ear hat," he grumbled, a childish pout on his lips.

Molly just laughed at him and began to open her own present. Her fingers closed around a piece of paper. She handed Sherlock the bag as she unfolded it and Sherlock watched her reaction as her eyebrows rose considerably and her eyes held a gleam of disbelief. She looked up at him, her mouth agape and a tear rolled down her cheek as she flung herself into him, kissing him once gently and hugging him tightly shortly after. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes and read the note over his shoulder once again.

_Dear Molly,_

_I love you too._

_-SH_

**BOOM! And that is the conclusion to the eight part fic! Thanks again to all of you lovely people who reviewed and thanks to the people who have put up with my crappy timing. A special thanks goes to those who have read my other fics because thats just cute of you. A very special thanks goes to FreeSpiritSeeker for betaing all of fics, including this one! I'm not sure if you guys will be too happy about this chapter because Striker wasn't in it but I liked how we last saw him all happy because his irl ship was becoming cannon ;D Thanks again and know that I have the utmost respect and love for you guys. Peace my beautiful people. **

**~Mel**


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